The Show Girl Outtakes
by Michelle Black a.k.a Elle
Summary: Companion to The Show Girl. Rachel was aware that Tony was a genius. You'd have to be if you were a billionaire philanthropist who saved the world as a hobby. She just didn't realize that it also meant he was persuasive. God, was he persuasive. "Holy Fuckin' Shit." She gasped. Tony smirked. "That won't be the only thing I'll have you saying by the end of the night."
1. Chapter 1

_**First and only time that I will write an Author's Note in the beginning and at the end. Welcome to the Show Girl Outtakes! It has a little bit everything; moments that I thought would be funny but couldn't add because it didn't fit with the flow of the story, more character development on character's that aren't Tony and Rachel, and really random prompts.**_

 _ **So what does this all mean?**_

 _ **Two things:**_

 _ **(1) Gives you something to read while(or if, all debatable really) I struggle on writing the chapters that follow for the Show Girl.**_

 ** _(2) You guys can give me prompts. Write the head cannons you've created in your wonderful minds or scenarios you want to see or give me questions you want answered._**

 ** _Enjoy and remember: I do_ not _own the Avengers._**

* * *

 **Jury Duty**

"I don't understand why we're even here," Clint commented quietly as the line he was in crawled forward. "You'd think saving the city from an alien invasion and giant robots would be enough _contribution_."

Steve, who stood in front of him, gave him a stern look. "It's our civic duty and right as an American citizen to participate in a court. Wouldn't you want to have your fellow citizens giving you a fair trial?"

Clint stared at him.

Rachel, who had also received the summon, squeezed herself in between the two and looked amusedly up at the Captain. "You've never done it before, have you?"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with a long suffering sigh and turned his attention back to the front of the line. Good thing too because he was the next person in line.

A thin rail woman stood in front of them, a small white basket on her side. At the sight of Steve, the woman began to get fluster and stumble on her words. Steve smiled kindly and waited patiently for her to give him directions. The smile did nothing to reassure her; the jumble of word vomit making her sound like she was possessed.

"Just grab a questionnaire and sit somewhere." Rachel snapped at Steve, nudging him through the double doors. The clerked glared at her and Rachel couldn't help but do the same.

Clint, despite his earlier misgivings about being there, grinned and followed after his blue-haired friend. "If you could start a brawl with the clerk while we're here that would be great. God knows this place sucks."

Rachel rolled her eyes and took her seat beside the Captain. He looked entirely too concentrated as he wrote on the little slip of paper.

"Does it count that I was undercover when I got arrested?" Clint whispered at them. Rachel looked at her own paper and fell on the number fourteen.

 _Have you,or a close friend or family member ever been arrested or accused of a crime?_

"That's everyone in the Tower." Rachel noted. Her eyes suddenly raised and she smiled triumphantly at the archer. "Except me of course."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "I can easily changed that."

Steve reach over Rachel and smacked Clint upside the head. He yelped and rubbed his head almost pitifully.

It was only 8 in the morning.

* * *

Rachel was curled as best as she could on Clint's shoulder, a warm styrofoam cup in between her hands. He sat slouched,his arms crossed his chest and resting face in place, as he watched Pretty Woman on the screen.

Rachel had to admit that from a stranger's point of view Clint looked scary. That could explain why their aisle was almost completely empty.

Rachel sighed and checked her phone. It had been three hours since they had gotten into the assembly room with absolutely nothing to do.

She had been planning to bring a book to read- an erotic novel she had stolen from Tony's secret stash- but Clint insisted that he and Steve would be enough entertainment.

Yet here she was, watching Clint get teary as Richard Gere climbed the fireplace while Steve was somewhere in the building playing juror.

Rachel sighed and took a sip of her coffee. Maybe she should take a nap.

Her daydream of a tap-dancing Steve on a rocketship was shattered as someone tapped on her shoulder. She craned her neck to look behind her.

It was a teenage boy, with a pink mohawk and bedazzled square glasses, staring almost besheeshingly at her.

"Yes?" Rachel said politely. The boy shuffled forward in his seat, his breath nearly on her face. She pulled her head back.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" the boy asked excitedly.

By this point Clint's interested had been peaked and he turned his head a little to watch the interaction from the corner of his eye.

"Not that I'm aware of." she said. The boy scrutinized her. His face suddenly lit up.

"I know! You're Iron Man's girlfriend." he said, rubbing his hands together. Rachel groaned inwardly and tried to ignore Clint shaking beside her.

"I'm not actually." she said, trying to keep her polite smile in place. The boy shook his head, pulling out his iphone from his pocket. He tapped on it for a couple of seconds before turning the screen to them.

It was a picture of them in front of a restaurant. They, along with the rest of the Avengers, had been celebrating another successful mission and they had all decided to doll up. Rachel had her arms around his waist, giving him a puppy-eyed look as he looked on with a grumpy look on his face.

"Is this not you?" he asked. Rachel wanted to crawl in a hole and hibernate.

"You _do_ look very comfortable." Clint teased, poking her arm. The boy nodded enthusiastically. Rachel glared at them.

"Listen..."Rachel began.

"Drake." the boy quickly supplied. She nodded.

" _Drake_ , as flattered as I am that you think I'd hang around superheroes all day. I'm not her just because I have blue hair." she said with an apologetic smile. She could feel Clint dying with laughter beside her. " We don't all look alike."

Clint casually leaned back in his seat and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She looked at him questioningly. He winked at her.

"Besides, if there is anyone that she's dating, its definitely me." he said, planting a kiss on her temple. "Isnt that right, babe?"

Rachel sagged against him and smiled, placing a hand behind his neck. She knew there was a reason she stuck with the archer. "No one better than you babe."

They were about to instigate an old out tongue war, when the boy was called up. The boy shot up, his face the color of a tomato, and quickly went through the doors to the right, mumbling apologies as he went.

Rachel and Clint high-fived and turned their attention to the screen. Les Miserables was playing. The archer groaned loudly as Rachel perked up in her seat.

* * *

"61-Clint Barton...523-Alice Shuster...1000-Rachel Lewis...1210..." the clerk called from her little podium.

Rachel and Clint gave each other a low five at being stuck together for this jury, but both were pretty bummed at being picked.

They made their way through the double doors and stood by the walls with the other jurors, waiting for the bailiff to call their numbers.

It was a towering bald man with heavy set eyebrows. He scowled as he surveyed the group he was given. His eyes lingered particularly at Clint.

"Listen up because I'm only going to say this once." his dark voice bounced off the hallways. "When I call your number, I'm going to collect your questionnaire and give you a number. Remember it."

He pulled a clipboard from his side and quickly began to rattle the numbers. Rachel was number ten. Clint was twenty.

"-your lunch begins now. Remember to go to the third floor on your left at one. Enjoy your freedom while you still can." the bailiff chuckled. Everyone scampered to the elevators.

The two friends looked at each other and shrugged.

"Do you want to climb the vents?"Clint asked, staring at a particular one over their heads. Rachel wrinkled her nose.

"As much as that sounds fun, who knows how long they've cleaned them." she replied. Clint smiled wickedly.

"Only one way to find out." he sang. She shook her and moved forward to press the elevator button.

"You do that. I'm going to go eat." she said. She could practically hear the turmoil going on through his head. The elevator doors slid open and she stepped in, along with a couple of other people.

Clint, after a second, slipped in snaking his way next to her. She smiled at his dejected expression.

* * *

It was another hour and they found themselves back in the assembly room. This time however, Steve was sitting beside them, a pleased expression on his face.

"Don't tell me you enjoyed it" Clint deadpanned, rubbing his sore neck.

Steve shrugged."It was nice seeing what goes on in our government. It makes me feel useful."

Rachel couldn't help but groan. "You are already useful Steve. _You're Captain America_."

Steve blushed furiously and ducked his head. "Yeah, but when I'm out of the uniform it's nice to know that I can still help.

Rachel and Clint stared at him. The archer slowly shook his head. "You're giving me a toothache will all this patriotic shit."

* * *

The courtroom was smaller than Rachel had expected. She was use to high ceilings and windows that lit up the benches. But it looked like this room was made at the last minute and in a hurry.

What did that say about the Judge?

Rachel sat squashed between two burly men that could easily belong in Hell's Angel. Clint sat in the row behind her, occasionally poking her shoulder when a potential juror said something outrageous.

"Juror number ten. Rachel Lewis." the judge called. The blue-haired woman sat up straight, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.

Judge Reed was a small woman with fiery red hair that looked like it made up half of her body. So far, she proved to have an impressive sharp wit as she shut down anyone that tried to give her stupid excuses as to why they shouldn't be a juror.

"Morning, your honor." Rachel greeted.

"It says here that you and several friends been a victim of a crime?" Judge Reed asked, peering at her over her glasses.

Rachel bit her lip. This was the hardest part. Trying to give enough information without breaking Shield protocol.

"Yeah, I've been assaulted and my home has been destroyed because of my affiliations. My best friend and his girlfriend have almost been murdered twice." she said carefully. The room had gone silent, not even the normal whisperers were engaging in conversation.

"Who are you affiliated with, Miss Lewis?" Reed asked.

"I can't give you a name." the blue-haired woman said softly. The judge leaned back in her seat and surveyed her.

"You must remember that this is the time to see if you'll be a juror or not, "Judge Reed explained, shuffling her papers. "I'm afraid you have to say. Unless you want to speak in private."

Rachel shook her head. "Your honor I can't say anything either way. All you need to know is that my silence is granted by the government."

The judge stared at her for a moment. Rachel wouldn't be surprised if she didn't believe her. It wasn't often when a young girl claimed something as outrageous as that.

"Alright. Juror number eleven." Judge reed called out after a pregnant pause.

Rachel sank against the wooden bench, vaguely listening to the man beside her speak about his open case. She smiled softly to herself as she felt a poke on her shoulder. She didn't have to turn around to see Clint's proud grin.

"Juror number twenty. Clinton Barton." the judge called out. She looked down at hia paper for a long moment.

"I can show you my ID if you need to see proof." Clint called out. The dancer turned her head. He was practically lounging on his side of the bench. If it wasn't for the other people around, his legs would easily be resting beside him.

"No need," Judge Reed said calmly, moving on to another questionnaire. "I'll find all I need to know through background check."

"I wish you luck, your honor." was Clint's only reply.

* * *

Rachel stared open-mouthed at the crumbled justice building, a purple giant sprawled over it. She felt someone grab her chin and flash a light in her eyes. She blinked.

When she had asked the universe to get her out of jury duty, she didn't mean an attack on the very building she was in by a mythical creature.

"I think she's in shock sir."

"You would be too if Hagrid carried you around like his favorite barbie doll."

" _Clint_." Captain America said. Oh, Steve was using _that_ voice. "We'll take it from here, thank you."

Slowly, she released the breath she was holding and raised her eyes to two worried Avengers. They looked terrible.

Clint had a busted lip and only one good eye, the other was firmly swollen shut. Steve's jacket was missing, his right arm in a sling while he favored his left foot.

"Nothing like riding the Hulk, huh?" Clint joked. Steve slapped him upside the head.

"Ignore him, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head and gingerly touch the back of her head. She winced at the pain that shot through her head and the blood that clung to her fingers. "I think the Hulk would take better care of his doll."

Clint stared at her through his one good eye. "You realize that his catchphrase is 'Hulk Smash', right? No amount of hair flipping would make him friendly."

Rachel glared at him. She turned her head to glare at Steve too for good measures. He raised his one good hand.

She was going to make sure Jarvis excused her from Jury Duty for the rest of her life.

* * *

 _ **I had Jury Duty last week and it was one of the most boring yet kind of interesting experience I've ever gone through. I guess I was lucky that it was a criminal case, but still, wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy...well maybe I do actually.**_

 _ **Thanks and let me know what you think with a review.**_

 _ **-Elle**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.**

* * *

 _Between the Third Meeting and the First Gala of Many..._

"I have to buy some gifts to make Pepper forgive me. Do you want to come?"

Rachel pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment, glancing at the people walking by her and the children tumbling on the grass, before returning the phone back to her ear.

"I don't remember giving you my phone number, Stark." She said, stooping on her bench seat to pet a little black puppy that decided her pink laces were acceptable chew toys. She waved off the mortified owner.

"Did you also forget that you're talking to a genius?" His amused voice drifted pleasantly into her ear. She snorted.

"Did _you_ forget that this is not how you make friends?" She shot back. He fell silent.

"Pepper _did_ say that insulting or buying people wasn't a way to make friends."

Rachel laughed, running a hand through her hair. She was beginning to see that Tony Stark was much more interesting than the tabloids made him out to be. "I don't know, I think I could be easily persuaded depending on what it is you're going to buy me."

"Your own jet or your own Iron Man suit?" He joked.

"I can't imagine the suit being great for pee breaks or boobs so let's just go find Pepper some gifts and we'll talk about that private plane over brunch." Rachel said. She heard the sound of repulsors and wind.

"Great. I'll come pick you up in five minutes." Tony said.

Rachel picked at her nails. She really needed to get a manicure. "I'm not home. I'm at the pa-"

"Found you." He interrupted, landing in front of her in full Iron Man gear. The plate of the helmet went up and she caught sight of his smug face.

A million thoughts ran through her head, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was:

"I'm afraid of heights."

Tony's smug face fell. "This won't work."

* * *

 ** _For the readers that are following the Show Girl, I haven't given up! It's just that Jonathan Reed and a couple of the characters are being stubborn at the moment, but the chapter will be up soon._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: _This is during Iron Man 2. Neither Rachel or Tony yet know about Natalie being the Black Widow._**

* * *

"Miss Lewis, there are three AIM people behind you and two more are getting out of the 6th floor." Jarvis announced in her ear as Rachel rushed up the stairs, the number 4 printed in yellow against the white walls. "If I can make a suggestion?"

"Please do." she gasped out. She pushed her legs faster when she heard a crash and startled yelp.

"If you cut through the fifth floor and go through the emergency exit, it can give you quicker access to the roof."

The door for the fifth floor was quickly approaching and despite her misgiving, she knew that it was the best option she had. The most fighting she knew was the basic self-defense she learned in college.

She reached door at the same time the two thugs turned the corner, their large weapons held firmly against them.

Rachel felt her mind go blank.

She let out a tiny scream and smashed the door against the face of one. The poor man was definitely going to have bruises tomorrow.

She dashed through the fifth floor - abandoned cubicles - and ducked and rolled as the men began to fire.

"Jarvis, how many flights of stairs left?" she shouted.

"Two Miss Lewis."

Rachel mentally cheered. She could definitely do this.

A bullet grazed past her head making her jerk to the left. She yelped and pushed the emergency exit open, ignoring the migraine that was forming at the flashing lights and blaring alarm system.

She jumped the last few steps and nearly face planted as she stumbled through the roof.

Rachel wanted to break down and cry as she felt the warmth of the sun and heard the noise of angry taxi drivers and chattering people down below.

The roof was bare and large giving her no place to hide or anything to use to bar the door.

"Jarvis, connect me to Tony." she said, pressing her entire weight against the door.

"Blues Clues, how can I be of assistance?" Tony's voice practically purred into her ear. Rachel scowled.

"Get your ass over here Tony. I'm surrounded by your AIM buddies." Rachel growled.

The men on the other side on the door gave a large shove, making her stumble to the ground and scraped her knee.

She felt rough hands grab her shoulders and pull her hair. She gasped, tears appearing in her eyes.

"Tony!" she screamed, struggling against her captors.

"I'm almost there. Hold on."Tony said urgently.

She gasped as she felt her hair being pulled again and she lashed out, her palm connecting with a nose with a crack.

The man cursed and reached over to slap her, but she hit him in the groin. He crumbled.

The man behind her pulled her against him, pressing his gun on her temple. She froze.

"Missy, we don't want to hurt you, but we will if you keep causing trouble." the man growled in her ear. Rachel could feel her heart racing.

"Blues!" Tony urged.

Rachel did the unthinkable and bit the man's hand. He yelped and dropped the gun.

She kicked it away and race towards the edge of the roof.

"What do I do?" Rachel yelled, shoving her whipping hair from her face. She looked back, more men were piling up onto the roof.

"Jump! I'll catch you."

"Are you insane?" she screamed, her hands entangling into her hair. She felt light-headed. She had never hated Tony Stark more.

"I'm almost there. Jump, Blues." Tony urged. Rachel heard the shot before she felt it. A searing pain on her leg that had her almost buckling to the floor. She screamed.

She could faintly hear Tony calling her. She could hear the men approaching her. She wasn't going to live.

Rachel frowned to herself. Fuck it.

With a final crawl, she threw herself off the building.

The wind was cold and unforgiving as it slapped against her face and threw her hair and clothes around her. But at least it distracted her from the pain.

"Got you."

Hands wrapped themselves around her waist and suddenly she was cradled like a baby, shielded from the wind and stray bullets.

Rachel looked up into the Iron Man mask. "Hate you Tony Stark."

They landed on the same roof. Rachel scowled at the men gathered around, their weapons casually on the floor or leaning against their legs.

"One of you owes me dry cleaning," she stated as she slipped out of Tony's hold. She bend down to try to wipe the yellow paint from her favorite pants. No success. "These are velvet pants."

"I'll buy you new ones." Tony dismissed, before clapping his hands to catch everyone's attention. "Thank you for your participation in this drill. If you go to the lobby, there my assistant, Natalie, will provide you with your payment and snacks. If you need to see medical assistance, go to the third floor."

The group of men chattered as they filed out of the roof. Finally it was just Tony and Rachel. He smirked at her.

"You passed, Blues."

Rachel ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Barely. Promise me we're done for the day." she nearly begged.

"One more and I promise to take you to Milon." he said softly, tucking on a loose curl.

"Take out and we watch the Wiz." Rachel crossed her arms. Tony made a face. "I'm not going to be able to walk for a couple of weeks. You owe me dude."

"Fine." He relented. "Jarvis. Tell the others it's time for Emergency Scenario # 322. "

Rachel groaned. That's why he had told her to bring a towel. She hated the ocean.

* * *

 _ **Remember to review. Thanks and I hoped you enjoy. I'm working on the following two chapters at the same time. Not really a smart move I know, but I can't help myself.**_

 ** _Lots of Love,_**

 ** _Ellie!_**


	4. Chapter 4

_The New Delta Strike Team_

"Status report?" Clint's voice whispered in her ear. Rachel adjusted the hold on her gun, her eyes trained on the figure that was coming down the hall.

As silently as she could, she slipped out of her hiding place- a utility closet- and crept through the carpeted hallway. This was her only chance. There wasn't any other place to hide, the hallway was just a long strip of open air, so if she had to attack she had to do it quickly.

"Rach, status report?" Clint repeated. The man stopped and carefully turned his head. The blue-haired woman broke into a run.

"Hold on!" She shouted into her comm, before she tackled him to the ground. He let out a weird mixture of a grunt and a yelp.

Rachel sat up, straddling his chest, making sure to pin his arms against his sides, and shot him on the forehead. She lifted her arm and spoke into a simple metal band. "Got him."

"You're dead to me Blues." Tony spoke from underneath her. Rachel smiled triumphantly and patted his cheek.

"Actually I'm pretty sure you're the dead one, Tony-bear." She cooed at him, even daring to pinch his cheeks. If Tony could find a way shoot his repulsors from his eyes, he would definitely use it now.

The vent across from them popped open and Clint Barton landed on the floor with a back flip. He assessed the situation with the blankest expression Rachel had ever seen and with one quick stride swept her into his arms. Their plastic weapons clattering behind them.

"We won!" He said cheerfully, twirling them around the hallway. "No more Taco Tuesdays!"

Rachel laughed and tightened her hold on his neck. For weeks, Rachel and Clint had been trying to get Taco Tuesday off the menu. Neither of them were very fond of Mexican food. Too many bad experiences.

But no matter how many times Clint threatened or Rachel tried to cut off his alcohol supply, Taco Tuesday kept coming. Of course a brilliant solution came in the beautiful form of Natasha who suggested a nerf war.

Rachel and Clint versus Tony and Bruce, who was roped into it by promises of a new upgrade on his lab. Taco Tuesday wouldn't stand a chance.

Clint placed her down as the other Avengers gathered in the hallway with them. Jarvis must have told them.

"The Delta Strike Force is back in session." Clint announced, high-fiving Rachel.

Tony sat up with a grumble as he pulled the nerf dart from his forehead. Bruce crouched down beside him and patted his shoulder. The billionaire gave him the sad eyes.

"At least I have you." He said. Bruce gave him a bland stare.

"Rachel paid me twenty and two boxes of Orange Spice black tea if I forfeited."

Tony gasped. "Et Tu, Brutus?"

He turned to give Rachel a speech about proper game etiquettes, but found himself completely ignored.

"So what are we eating now on Tuesdays?" Steve asked curiously, leaning against the wall. Rachel and Clint grinned at each other.

"We declare Tuesdays to be Tamales Tuesdays." Clint said, puffing his chest.

* * *

 _ **This is the shenanigans they normally get to.**_

 _ **-Ellie**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel.**

* * *

 **Rated M because Clint is getting some well deserved sexy time.**

* * *

Okay, the universe officially sucked.

All Clint wanted was a night- one _fudging_ night- to try to have his brain blown by a beautiful green Amazonian.

She wasn't his usual type. He didn't usually go this young- despite his treatment of Rachel (and he already had that _talk_ with Rachel and they were good.)- or this silent. But he had liked the stifling weight of her gaze and the way her mint color hair glinted underneath the artificial light of the bar and he knew he was going to bring her back with him.

It also helped that when he had bought her a drink, her round ass grinded deliciously against his crotch.

It was true what Barney said then: The Barton men _were_ assmen.

He laid on his back, watching through hooded eyes as the exotic woman licked her fingers cleaned.

The woman crawled up to him, her breasts swaying, green hair tumbling behind her sunkissed shoulders. He could feel himself get hard again. He knew from the flash of her teeth and darkened eyes, this was going to be fudging amazing.

But, like always in the life of Clint Barton, bad luck struck. Just as she was lowering herself on him, her walls flexing around him in ways that made his eyes roll back, a scream richocheted through his room.

Clint, without thinking, jumped out of the bed, grabbed a pillow thrown near the door, and sprinted towards the noise.

He didn't think to ask Jarvis about the situation. He didn't think to look at the time. He didn't think to put on some clothes. He didn't _think._

All he knew was that Rachel was in trouble.

He burst into her suite, his eyes frantically searching the room. The TV was on, Hugh Jackman waving his hands about something in mute. On the couch, Rachel was squirming underneath a tall man, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth formed into a silent 'o'.

It looked like Rachel was getting lucky too.

Clint felt like a major idiot. A doofus. A crap sack. He liked the dancer plenty enough, but he really didn't need to see her get nailed by some random guy.

He was inching back towards the door, his pillow covering his junk, when Rachel decided to open her eyes and meet his gaze.

Aww, Universe, _no_.

"Clint! Jesus!" Rachel shouted, trying to hide her face behind her hands. The other man fell off the couch. "Where the hell are your clothes?"

Clint immediately looked towards the ceiling. "You were screaming."

Rachel sat up, fully clothed despite her hair being a tangled mess. "We were in the middle of a tickle war."

"And I was winning," the man spoke, popping his head out from the back of the couch. It was Tony. He raised an eyebrow at Clint's nakedness. "Nice mole."

"Nice face," Clint snapped back, immediately hitting himself with an imaginary fry pan. He didn't think well when he was sexually frustrated.

Tony smirked at him knowingly. Clint's hands twitched around his pillow. He could think of eight ways he could kill this smug billionaire with just his pillow.

"Jarvis," Tony called, moving to sit himself back on the couch. Rachel grumbled, but made room for him. "Silence this room and Agent Barton's room unless the usual happens."

"Yes sir," Jarvis replied instantly.

"Had to use that a lot?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow. Tony shrugged.

"Never had time to break it in in the tower."

Clint relaxed, his mind immediately going to the Amazonian. "Well thanks for letting me be the first."

Rachel popped her head out and glared at him. "Go Clint Barton!" She barked, waving him away. "I'm tired of seeing you naked."

Clint inched backwards, his eyebrows wiggling. "The pillow is hiding the best part."

He ducked the pillow she chucked at him and raced back to his room.

* * *

 ** _This was based on a tumblr prompt: Imagine Clint quickly running to your room in the middle of the night after hearing you scream. It was also accompanied with a gif of a naked Jeremy Renner holding a pillow against his crotch and well... it basically wrote itself._**

 ** _Happy Holidays lovelies!_**

 ** _-Ellie_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Georgia Lewis and her Beginning**

* * *

Giant grey clouds crawled through the sky to hang over the city, swallowing up the sun's rays and clear blue skies that Omaha was known for. Men and women were hurrying down the busy streets, newspapers and umbrellas hovering over their heads in preparation for the downpour.

A sleek black Lincoln pulled in front of the entrance of the Henshaw Hotel. It towered over most of the buildings, it's glossy neo-classicism carvings and bright red flags making it stand out. The doorman, dressed in red, held the door open in time for a middle-aged man in a grey suit and matching fedora to step through, his briefcase in hand.

"Goodbye . Enjoy your flight back home." The doorman greeted. The man nodded. The driver of the Lincoln stepped out, his black cap in hand, and opened the car door for him.

"Thank you Jim. Everything in order I take it?" Mr. Redfield asked, a foot already in the door. The driver smiled briefly and nodded once. "Good, good. Let's make sure we get to the airport in one piece."

"Yes sir."

The car parked in front of the clunky airport. Jim opened his side door again. Once was out, he went to the trunk and opened it. A hand reached out and grabbed his coat. A face popped out after, bright red hair half covering her eyes.

"Sorry miss, I couldn't avoid the pothole. Was everything okay in there?" Jim asked. The young woman pushed her hair back and hopped off the trunk of the car, smoothing her simple blue skirt from wrinkles.

"If we ignore the fact that I had to create a small hole in your trunk to be able to breathe, then yes, I'm having a gas." She said huskily, shooting her megawatt smile. Jim chuckled. Mr. Redfield appeared at their side, a stern expression on his face.

"Miss Lewis, I hope you didn't run away from home." He began, crossing his arms. "If your parents didn't allow you to be a part of the troupe, then you shouldn't be here."

The redhead wasn't perturbed. She chuckled and placed her hands on her hips, giving her full attention at the man in front of her. "Take a gander at the situation . I'm far from home. It would take two hours to drop me off at my folks. Time which a swanky important businessman like yourself doesn't have." She said, her megawatt smile firmly in place. She could practically see the internal struggle going on in the man's head and she just knew she was winning. Her smile brightened. "Besides, I'm of legal age."

The man stared intently at her, before sighing. "Alright. I'll make sure the pilot knows we have an extra passenger. Do you have your-"

"Yes! All here." She said, pulling out a faded brown suitcase from the trunk. Mr. Redfield sighed and turned.

"Alright. Come along, Miss Lewis." He said. She turned towards Jim, an excited smile on her face. They shook hands.

"I hope you find what you're looking for in New York Miss Lewis." He said with a giant grin. She returned it.

"Oh I will. Goodbye Jim and thanks. "She said gratefully.

She caught up with Mr. Redfield at the tarmac. He stood at the entrance of the small plane, speaking to the air pilot and gesturing down at her. She smiled at the pilot when he looked her way.

"Miss Lewis, come up." Mr. Redfield said, before entering. She allowed the stewardess to take her suitcase and climbed up the metal staircase. The pilot tugged on his cap.

"Welcome aboard Miss Lewis."He said with a friendly smile. She smiled back. "Thank you, Captain. Glad to be on board."

"Miss Lewis, I would like to introduce one of your fellow USO girls and a new crew member of the troupe." Mr. Redfield said, placing his hand on her back and leading her to the middle of the plane. "This is Rita Garcia." A small woman with dark curls framing her round face and dark eyes smiled nervously up at her. "And this is Terry McDuff." A large man with a blonde buzz cut and a large butt chin merely nodded at her.

A blonde stewardess approached them, a polite smile on her face. "Sir, Ma'am, sorry to interrupt but it's time to take your seats. The plane will begin to take off shortly."

They apologized and moved towards their seats. She sat next to Rita. "You know, I've never ridden on a plane before." She said casually, leaning back against her seat. Rita stared at her in surprised.

"A-and you're not spooked?" She stammered, her sweet voice making the redhead smile.

"Oh, I'm definitely spooked. I'm just nuts about landing at the Big Apple already. You've ever been?"She asked. The hispanic girl shook her head. "Well, I'm sure we'll have a swell time and who knows we might even find ourselves spiffy dreamboats. What do you say?"

Rita broke into a genuine smile. "I think that's swell. What's your name?"

"Georgia. Georgia Lewis." The redhead smiled back.

* * *

 **After I had introduced Georgia in the Show Girl, I immediately thought about writing a story for her. I only managed to get to the prologue, but who knows I might pick up on it.**


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